“Morning Breath Kisses”
Morning breath kisses,
punctuate sandwich making medleys.
Dogs need walking,
but that’s the wrong collar.
Yes, it is!
No, I’ll do it!
Scrambled egg yellow remains on toddler maws, waiting to be wiped clean.
Where are the effing shoes?
I told you to take them off at the back door.
I just woke up.
Ships passing in the day.
Dead sleeping at night.
I never realized how elegant your movements become when you are aggravated with me.
The kitchen is a phone booth.
The last of its kind.
There is plenty of room, and no room.
Contained charismatic chaos.
Strenuous stress stirred up, stored up, until.
Strange how lovers gradually and incrementally become strangers.
One piece of butter-spread toast at a time.